


A Loss of Control

by PeetaPan



Category: The Following
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, angsty sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeetaPan/pseuds/PeetaPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan confronts Mike after Mike loses control torturing Dr. Strauss. Angsty sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Loss of Control

“You need to calm the fuck down,” Ryan’s words are dark and threatening, but Mike can’t seem to make himself care. His eyes are clouded over, blood pumping hot with a thirst for revenge. Mike could feel it in his bones—Strauss knew _something_ … something that would lead to Lily Gray.

“I am calm,” Mike spat, blue eyes flashing dangerously with anger despite the steadiness of his voice.

Ryan scoffed.

“Yeah, you’re a real ball of sunshine,” he said, every word dripping with sarcasm. “You’re coming with me, kid.” Ryan grabbed Mike by the arm, hauling him up the stairs and out of punching-range of Dr. Strauss. Mike shouted indignantly, attempting (unsuccessfully) to wrench himself from Ryan’s grasp.  

Ryan dragged him into what Mike assumed was Strauss’s living room, decorated with a piano, some bookcases, and a couch. Finally, Ryan let him go, and Mike scrambled upright.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” Mike growled, fury wavering his voice. Ryan gazed at him, eyes calculating and sympathetic.

“If you don’t head down this path, I won’t need to,” he replied shortly. Mike glared.

“You don’t get to tell me how to deal with my grief,” he snarled, the familiar prick of tears tickling his eyes. Furious, he swallowed, trying to remain composed.

“Mike,” Ryan said.

The men stared at each other—Ryan’s heart burdened with guilt and Mike’s weighted with sorrow. Mike desperately wanted Ryan to yell at him, to be angry. He wanted to fight and scream and kick and punch.

“Don’t become me, Mike,” Ryan warned, eyes lined with sadness.

Mike snapped.

“This isn’t about you, _Hardy_ —this is my life, my pain, my guilt!” he shouted, hands balling into fists. “Who the fuck are you to lecture me on revenge? What exactly are you planning to do when you find Joe, huh?” Tension rippled through his body, every muscle tensed and ready for combat.

“I don’t want you to live with my mistakes!” Ryan argued, stepping forward. Mike’s face twisted with derision.

“You’re not my dad, Hardy—you don’t _get_ to teach me anything,” Mike spat, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Yeah, well would your dad be proud of what path you’re following?” Ryan retorted.

Mike saw red; he wasn’t aware his fist was flying toward Ryan’s face until Ryan blocked his blow, putting him in an arm bar.

“Listen to me Mike—“ Ryan begged, but Mike’s head was pounding with anger and venom. Aiming a heel at Ryan’s shin, Mike kicked out the older man’s legs, and the two went crashing to the floor. Straddling Ryan, Mike tried to punch him again, but Ryan deftly blocked it once more, pumping his hips up and flipping Mike onto his back, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs in the process.

Their positions now reversed, Mike struggled to escape, but Ryan’s forearm was pressed firmly across Mike’s chest, successfully trapping him in an iron embrace.

“Mike, please,” Ryan pleaded for the younger man to stop fighting.

Mike continued to struggle, squirming and straining to get the upper hand—but Ryan just held him, firmly holding Mike back in an almost protective manner. He let Mike punch and kick, beat his fists on Ryan’s chest, until Mike was exhausted, his anger drained and all that remained was that deep gnawing sense of guilt and sadness.

Mike collapsed, vaguely aware that at some point in the scuffle he had started crying. Heavy tears streamed down his face—Ryan watched him silently, eyes tender and gentle.

“It’s okay,” he breathed as Mike continued sobbing into his chest. “It’s alright.”

Ryan removed his forearm from Mike’s chest, leaning it against the ground and hovering over his partner.

“You’re bleeding,” Ryan noticed, his fingers gently tracing Mike’s brow—the wound a souvenir from the previous scuffle with Luke. Mike winced, hiccupping himself into silence. Ryan was so close—too close. His fingers burned where they touched his skin.  Mike swallowed hard, suddenly flushed with embarrassment, his cheeks tinged with pink.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, concern coloring his voice. Mike’s face was barely two inches from Ryan’s. He abruptly became aware of Ryan’s body, pressing against him everywhere, warmth seeping into his skin. Mike’s breathing was shallow and uneven, and he licked his lips, suddenly nervous.

Before he could think it through, before he could even process what he was doing, Mike surged up, pressing his lips firmly to Ryan’s.

The older man froze, completely taken by surprise. Mike felt a swooping sensation in his stomach as reality came crashing over him in an icy wave.

Fuck. He was kissing Ryan. Yup, that was definitely stubble brushing his chin. Holy fuck, what was he doing this was so inappropriate and wrong and—

Ryan kissed back.

Mike’s eyes flew open in surprise. Fuck, Ryan was kissing him back, his lips soft but demanding at the same time. It was like a dam had broken because suddenly, hands were everywhere, groping and grasping, as if the couple had never stopped fighting.

Ryan pulled Mike’s bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling slightly on the swollen flesh. A moan ripped its way out of Mike’s throat, and he desperately thread his fingers through Ryan’s hair, pulling the older man closer to his body. Ryan grabbed Mike’s hands, pinning his arms above his head, before drawing back to take a look at the thoroughly debauched detective beneath him. Mike bit his lip nervously at the unexpected appraisal.

Ryan shifted to hold both of Mike’s wrists in only one hand. His newly free hand traced lightly down Mike’s abdomen, and the young man shuddered, a thrill rushing down his spine at the uncomfortably light contact. Ryan’s eyes were transfixed on Mike’s face, hungrily watching his every move.

When his hand reached Mike’s waistband, Ryan paused briefly, stroking the exposed skin of Mike’s hip, before slipping his fingers underneath the soft fabric, slowly tracing every contour of the younger man’s stomach. Mike’s head thudded to the floor in agony at the slow torture of Ryan light caresses. Every touch was like a pinprick, sending spikes of lust directly to his cock. Mike chewed his lip, trying desperately to shift up, to get more friction.

Ryan’s hand was large and warm as it rested comfortably over Mike’s heart. The young detective glanced up, catching Ryan’s gaze. Mike realized, with a swoop in his stomach, that it wasn’t just lust etched in Ryan’s eyes. It was worship.

Mike flushed at the realization. He’d never felt so cared for—it was disarming.

Ryan leaned down, capturing Mike’s lips in a filthy kiss, full of biting lips and clashing teeth that left Mike gasping for air. Ryan’s thumb grazed over Mike’s nipple, and the young man jolted. Lust prickled up and down his spine, a half-moan choked in his throat. Ryan growled possessively, moving to lick and bite Mike’s neck greedily.

Mike shifted, desperately rubbing his cock against Ryan’s ass. He wanted to free his hands from Ryan’s grasp so badly. He wanted to dig his fingers into Ryan’s skin, to grab Ryan’s ass, to fuck against Ryan hard with slow and dirty friction. A near whine escaped Mike’s mouth, and Ryan chuckled in response, the rumble reverberating deep in his chest.

“You want something?” Ryan teased, a dark smirk scrawled across his face. Mortified, Mike bit his lip, incapable of responding.

Ryan grinned, purposefully grinding his ass down against Mike’s cock, carefully drinking in every reaction. Unable to control his body, Mike wantonly thrust up into the welcoming heat, utterly unabashed and blinded by pure desire.

“Pl-please,” he managed to stammer, completely at Ryan’s mercy.

“Please what, Mike?” Ryan grinned wolfishly, fully aware of the affect he was having on the young man. “You have to be specific,” he said, his hand continuing to torturously explore Mike’s abdomen.

“ _Touch me_ ,” Mike finally begged. Ryan smirked.

“As you wish.”

Mike’s breath caught in his chest as Ryan began to undo his pants, pulling down his boxers. The older man’s fingers gently brushed Mike’s cock, just barely, but it sent sparks flying beneath Mike’s eyelids. He gasped, back arching, as Ryan grasped him firmly. Ryan pumped a few times, and Mike nearly came right there, as pleasure shot up and down his spine. Mike couldn’t contain himself any longer, and he began thrusting up into Ryan’s hand uncontrollably, chasing after that white-hot intensity washing over his body in waves. Ryan growled, whispering dirty nothings into Mike’s ear, every word, every touch so fucking hot that Mike could feel his orgasm building and building and—

Suddenly, Ryan slowed his pace, deliberately alternating his grip to keep Mike from rushing over the edge. Mike growled, frustrated at the new speed. He squirmed in annoyance, arms still pinned over his head. Ryan simply chuckled and pressed a kiss against the hollow of Mike’s throat, before releasing Mike’s cock completely. Nervous tension washed over Mike, and he whimpered at the loss of contact.

Before Mike could comprehend what was happening, Ryan’s solid weight was gone and then he was eye-level with Mike’s dick and –

 _Holy fucking shit._ Mike nearly came instantly, like a fucking teenager, because _the_ Ryan Hardy started sucking on Mike’s cock like it was a goddamn candy cane. Every ounce of lust in Mike’s body flared up, pumping through his veins, overwhelmingly hot. Ryan made the filthiest slurping noises, like Mike’s cock was the best damn thing he’d ever tasted.  

Mike looked down, a foolish decision, because as soon as he saw his own dick fucking Ryan’s shiny red lips—

Mike grasped Ryan’s head, desperately trying to pull the older man up—to warn him, but Ryan kept going and going—

Mike’s orgasm hit him full force like a punch in the gut. Every atom in his body exploded violently at the same time, and he came hard, fucking Ryan’s mouth uncontrollably. The older man just took it, swallowing Mike’s come greedily, completely unfazed. A choked moan ripped its way from Mike’s chest as Ryan worked him through his orgasm, sucking and lapping at his cock until Mike twitched at the oversensitive touches.

Exhausted, Mike collapsed on the floor, vaguely wondering if the people in the basement heard anything. Ryan crawled up Mike’s body, capturing his lips in a filthy kiss. Mike could taste himself on Ryan’s tongue; it was sort of hot, but also sort of gross.

“Sorry,” Mike breathed, completely drained. “I tried to warn you—“

Ryan grinned, wiping his mouth.

“It’s alright. Sometimes what you need is to just lose control, kid.”


End file.
